A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 62: New Girlfriend

Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

John sat patiently on the edge of the coffee table. He watched as Sherlock and Janine prepared for their day. It was weird seeing Sherlock act this way with anyone other than Alice yet still, something seemed off.

"So," Sherlock began casually as he pulled on his suit jacket. "It's just a guess, but you've got some questions,"

"Yeah," John said slowly. "I've got a few,"

"Naturally," Sherlock affirmed as he sat down in his armchair.

"You have a new girlfriend... who isn't Alice..."

"Yes, I have" Sherlock replied as if it were obvious. "Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John, stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes... that's what he is. I've dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, and serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen,"

"Yes, you have?" John questioned.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"You have a girlfriend... who isn't your fiancée," He paused, still trying to come to terms with the new information. "You and Janine?"

"Yes, yes. I'm going out with Janine. I thought that was fairly obvious,"

"But I mean you are in a relationship with Janine. It took you almost a year of knowing Alice before you even asked her out. And you've known Janine for a little over a month..." John trailed off "Care to elaborate?"

"Well, we're in a good place. It's... very affirming,"

"You got that from a book," John accused.

"Everyone got that from a book,"

"Okay, you two bad boys," Janine said as she walked into the living room, ready for work. "Behave yourselves," Sherlock smiled as she sat down on the arm of his chair. "And you, Sherl, you're gonna have to tell me where you were last night,"

"Working," Sherlock answered.

"Working," Janine repeated, "Of course. I'm the only one who knows what you're really like, remember?"

John couldn't help but tilt his head at her statement. Janine seemed kind and tolerant enough to deal with Sherlock's constant ramblings and arguments with the television. But even he had would get uncomfortable with the dismembered body parts in the fridge and dangerous experiments in the kitchen.

"Don't you go letting on," Sherlock whispered. He gently ran his finger down the tip of her nose and laid his hand on her arm.

"I might just, actually," Janine flirted before turning to John. "I haven't told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her,"

"Yeah, you probably will," John replied. You definitely will.

"But we should have you two over for dinner really soon!" Janine suggested cheerfully. "My place, though- not the scuzz-dump,"

"Great, yeah! Dinner! Yeah," John mumbled.

"Oh, I'd better dash," Janine said, looking at her watch again. "It was brilliant to see you,"

"You too,"

John watched Sherlock escort Janine to the living room door, opening it for her.

"Have a lovely day. Call me later," Sherlock said while Janine played with the edge of his jacket. John couldn't help but stare in utter amazement and disbelief at the scene in front of him.

"I might call you- unless I meet someone prettier," Janine flirted. "Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes," Janine whispered before they kissed.

As soon as Janine left the flat, Sherlock's smile disappeared.

"You know Charles Augustus Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he is so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more information he acquires, the greater his wealth and power," Sherlock said as he opened his laptop. "I am not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. And he's created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge and its name is Appledore," Sherlock turned the screen to show John the image of Appledore and its blueprints,"

"Dinner," John said flatly.

"Sorry, what?"

"Me and Mary, coming for dinner... with wine... and sitting,"

"Seriously? I've just told you that the Western world is run from this house and you want to talk about dinner?"

John contemplated whether or not he wanted to slap Sherlock à la Molly or react in the same manner he did when Sherlock came back from the dead. Either way, Sherlock needed some common sense forced back into him and it would have to be either him, Mary, or Alice, to make sure it happened.

"Actually, I want to talk about you. I don't hear from you for a month, find you in a drug den and upon bringing you home after discovering that you're high, I also find out you're in a new relationship with someone who isn't your fiancée. Apologies for being a little confused," John stated, his hurt and anger coming out more and more. "And what about Alice? You've refused to talk about her all morning. What happened? Where the bloody hell is she?" He demanded, his voice getting louder as he asked more questions.

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted.

"What do you mean 'You don't know'? You're you! You have analysed 243 different types of tobacco ash and know how to fake your death. How do you not know where she is?"

"She left after the wedding. She took everything out of our bedroom and her flat downstairs was untouched. All she left was her ring and a note saying that she had to leave in order to protect us,"

"What do you mean she left to protect us?"

"I don't know. Alice has been open about her past, but there could be more. But I think we can all agree that my relationship with Janine is far better than me actually taking on a drug habit,"

John took a deep breath. "Fine," He said in a calmer tone, "Talk about the house,"

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his laptop. "Appledore is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world. It is the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals- and none of it is on a computer. He's smart- computers can be hacked. It's all on hard copy vaults underneath the house. And as long as those files are there, the personal freedom of anyone you've ever met is a fantasy,"

"Ooh-ooh," Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door, interrupting their conversation. "Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldn't you hear it?"

"It's in the fridge. It kept ringing,"

"That's the first normal thing I've heard you say all morning," John muttered before turning his attention to his favourite landlady. "Who is it?"

Mrs. Hudson drew in an anxious breath.